


Your Body is a Temple (And I Intend to Worship Tonight)

by Boeing



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Squirting, Trans Male Warden, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boeing/pseuds/Boeing
Summary: Mahariel feels insecure about his body after he has to reject Morrigan's proposal the night before the archdemon is to be slain, so Zevran helps him feel better about himself the best way he knows how.





	Your Body is a Temple (And I Intend to Worship Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> this is gay GAY super GAY like even the mahariel/alistair bromance has homo undertones to it
> 
> fair warning: feminine terms for the warden’s genitalia is used, in case there are trans people who are uncomfortable with that

With a sigh, the Warden pushed open the heavy iron door to his guest room and shut it behind him as quietly as possible. He knew that many of his companions were trying to sleep, despite it only being early evening, because of the upcoming battle against the darkspawn horde. He leaned his head against the cool metal and took a few deep breaths, trying to ground his thoughts. After several moments, he turned to look at the fire burning in the center of the far wall and noticed Morrigan standing there, facing away from him.

“Good evening, Mahariel,” she said without looking at him.

“Morrigan,” the Warden replied, crossing the room in slow steps to stand next to her in front of the hearth. “Did you need something?” he asked. Normally, he would joke around with her; sometimes she seemed to appreciate his humor, but the air was heavy with a strange kind of tension.

“Hm… I believe it is not I who needs something, but you,” she said, turning to look at him now. Her eyes were dark and her lips pursed; she looked more tired than usual, which was usually not at all— she was disturbingly skilled at concealing her feelings and thoughts.

Mahariel cocked one eyebrow, looking at her questioningly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m aware what the process of killing the archdemon entails,” she admitted, taking a few paces away from Mahariel. “And I’m aware that you and Alistair have just now become privy to it as well.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I know a lot of things, my dear Warden.”

Mahariel hummed at her indefinite answer, but said nothing of it; he was used to her vagueness at this point. They’d been traveling for quite a long time together, and he had had plenty of time to become accustomed to her… quirks. Her unwillingness to reveal her true intentions, of even the most petty things. “Well, what about it, then?”

“I have a way out for you, Warden. The loop in your hole, if you will.”

The Warden was silent for a moment, watching her carefully. He did not quite trust what she was hinting at, but he had no real reason to be skeptical of her; they had gotten this far together, hadn’t they? But it still was so strange that she was only just telling him of this at the very last moment. “Alright,” he said, his voice quieter than he had expected to come out.

“There is a ritual that will allow for the Gray Warden who slays the archdemon to live,” she started by explaining, taking a seat on the edge of the Warden’s bed, barely making a single wrinkle in the sheets. “And I know how to perform this ritual.”

“You learned this from Flemeth, I’m assuming?”

“Yes.”

There was a reason to be skeptical. Flemeth was… questionable, at best. However, Mahariel was willing to believe her, for the moment; the possibility that he, Alistair, and Riordan would be allowed to live while still conquering the archdemon was incredibly attractive. Sure, he had been willing to sacrifice himself in the place of the Grey Warden who knew how to perform the Joining and the new king of Ferelden, since Mahariel had no real importance in comparison to them. Not dying, however, was always a nice thing. “Continue. I’m listening.”

The faintest smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and the elf was almost proud of himself for noticing it. He smirked a bit too. “Sleep with me tonight, Mahariel,” Morrigan started by saying, and Mahariel blanched at the idea. She saw this and held up her hand. “Hear me out. Sleep with me tonight, and a child will be conceived who also bears the darkspawn taint. When it comes time for the archdemon to be slain, the essence of the Old God inside of it will—”

Mahariel’s smirk suddenly disappeared, replaced with an expression mixed with worry, fear, and the slightest bit of shame. He swallowed the saliva that had collected in his mouth, and quietly he said, “Morrigan.”

“—go into the body of the child instead of the Warden who does the deed. And, with this child, after the archdemon has been slain, I will—”

She did not seem to hear him. Mahariel wasn’t really hearing her anymore either, but he called out louder this time, “Morrigan.”

Irritated at being interrupted, she stood quickly from the bed. “What? I’m trying to explain this whole process to you now so you won’t have to ask me so many questions later.”

“Morrigan, I…” Mahariel chuckled quietly, more out of nerves than any actual humor. “You cannot have my child.”

“I haven’t even explained what the ritual involves yet, and you are already so willing to deny me? I’m trying to save your life, Warden—”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Mahariel said, his voice no more than a whisper, so he grabbed her upper arm to keep her from talking over him. “You… _physically…_ cannot have my child.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Morrigan laughed haughtily, clearly quite confused. “This… was the whole reason I joined your merry band in the very beginning, Mahariel. The reason why Flemeth saved your life, so that I might have the child with the essence of the archdemon inside of it—”

“Morrigan, Morrigan, please,” Mahariel pleaded for her silence, squeezing her arm. “If I had known this was why Flemeth wanted you to come with me, I would have told you about my… situation much sooner.”

“ _What_ situation?”

The Warden’s face tightened, his gaze averted from Morrigan’s, which seemed to pierce right through him. He had been ready to just spit it out, but when it came time for his lips to form the words, he hesitated. “I…” he paused, searching for the right way to say it. “I wasn’t… born a man, Morrigan. I— I don’t have the… necessary _parts_ for us to conceive a child together.”

Morrigan’s lips gaped slightly, then closed, hiding her fleeting moment of surprise. “I… see,” she murmured, turning away. “It seems that Flemeth was mistaken.”

Mahariel couldn’t believe that Flemeth could ever be wrong about something, but he had no argument otherwise. That woman had seemed to know everything about him at just the first glance, like his soul had been ripped open when she looked at him. “I’m sorry, Morrigan.”

“Don’t be.” Her tone was laced with undertones of anger; Mahariel almost flinched at the venom behind it.

“I am, really.”

“I believe you,” she snapped. The Warden sighed and gave up, knowing that he would not get anywhere with her terseness. “Perhaps I will ask Alistair instead. Unless he is also…?”

“No, no, I— he’s not,” Mahariel muttered. Not what? Was there a word for people like him in the common language? “But perhaps I should go with you. You two don’t exactly have… the best relationship.”

“Mm,” Morrigan hummed as she walked towards the door. “Very well.”

Nodding, Mahariel followed her dumbly from his room towards Alistair’s, which was not very far down the hall from his. Morrigan was poised to shove her way inside, but Mahariel grabbed her wrist and said, “Let me go first.” She nodded, relenting, and Mahariel gently eased the door open. “Alistair?”

He got no response, but several candles on the bedside table were lit. Mahariel entered fully and closed the door separating him from Morrigan, watching her expression as he shut it. Alistair was indeed in his room, and he had fully removed his armor— his late brother’s— and had it set up meticulously on a rack in the far corner. Alistair sat in front of his own fireplace, dressed in simple night clothes. He may have been the newly appointed king, but he would forever remain the same simple Grey Warden Mahariel knew him to be.

“Yes, Mahariel?” he said, the sadness and stress evident in his voice.

Mahariel walked over to Alistair and sat next to him down on the sofa, fingers curled in his lap. He was silent for a couple of moments before deciding just to cut right to the chase. “Morrigan says that she has a way to… keep the archdemon’s essence out of our bodies when we slay it.”

“Of course she does,” Alistair scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know whether to be terrified or relieved.”

“Yes, I understand the feeling. She started to try and explain the process to me, and I don’t really understand the whole thing, but... I know I can’t do it. But you can.”

“Can’t do what?”

Mahariel was silent for a moment. “Conceive a child with her.”

“Why... oh. Oh, right.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Alistair turned to face the elf. “And you’re asking me to?”

“Morrigan was going to, yes,” Mahariel nodded. “But I figured it best if you heard it from me first.”

“Have a child with Morrigan…” Alistair sighed, shaking his head. “I’d be putting another royal bastard into this world, wouldn’t I?”

“Perhaps. But you turned out alright, I think.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Well,” the elf paused. “If you want to avoid our… current situation with the crown, then just have more heirs, I suppose.”

“My father did that, and look how well that turned out.”

“I mean, they’re probably not going to be dying from a Blight and traitorous generals when it comes time for someone to succeed you.”

“Hm, true.”

“I’m not going to try to push you into this,” Mahariel clarified. “I don’t know about Morrigan, but I won’t. I was ready to sacrifice myself if Riordan failed, but if there is a way to prevent anyone from dying, then I’m willing to try it.”

“But what if Morrigan is wrong?” Alistair asked. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I go to slay the archdemon and the essence goes in me and kills me? Who will rule Ferelden then?”

“I thought you didn’t want to.”

“I still don’t think I’m ready to, yes,” he said. “But… I feel like I have already accepted the role, and it’s my duty now to carry it out. Anora… she betrayed us when we trusted her, but I would feel bad to leave her to all of this after we took her father, her power—”

“I can’t say I feel the same about Anora, but I understand,” Mahariel said, loosening his position on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around Alistair’s shoulder and hugged him close, and he could feel Alistair shaking slightly, as if he was crying. “Morrigan hasn’t led us astray yet, so I… I think we can trust her on this. But if you don’t want to do it, nobody is making you. But you can’t be the one to kill the archdemon if you don’t. Your people need you.”

“But I can’t have you dying on me either. The people may need me… but I need you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mahariel said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Riordan says he’s going to do it.”

“But what if he fails? Oh, Maker, help us,” Alistair groaned, standing. Mahariel’s arm fell to his side. Alistair paced around the back of the couch, and the elf followed him with his eyes. “Let me or my best friend die or sleep with and… and… _impregnate_ Morrigan? How can I make such a decision?”

“I know it seems… strange,” Mahariel said. “But… really, Alistair, what would you rather? If it were me— if I could do this… I would.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He shook his head. "I think… yes, I’ve decided. I’m going to do it, I… if I think about it any longer, I’m going to chicken out. Where is Morrigan?”

“Just outside your door,” Mahariel replied, getting to his feet also. He pulled Alistair into a tighter hug this time, which the other Warden returned in earnest. “We will win this. We will both come out the other side, I promise you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” the elf nodded, stepping away. “I’m going back to my room. I will see you in the morning, Alistair.”

“Good night. Pleasant dreams, I hope.”

Mahariel chuckled lightly as he opened the door. “We both know that won’t happen, but… I’m hoping too.”

Just as he had predicted, Morrigan was still outside the door, leaning against the wall across from Alistair’s room. Her eyes flickered up to meet Mahariel’s gaze; he simply nodded before making his way back to his room. Morrigan disappeared behind the door, and the elf, even with his superior hearing, could not catch their voices through the wall. That, of course, might be because they said nothing to each other.

The Warden’s room was now gloriously empty, and the bed begged him for him to occupy it— or, rather, Zevran did with his eyes, who was sitting upright against three stacked pillows. He grinned widely, gazing at the Warden affectionately.

“When did you get in here?” Mahariel asked absentmindedly, not quite focused entirely on the presence of his lover. He moved towards the mirror and undressed to his smallclothes, which were in no way clean enough to sleep in, but it was much too warm to sleep in proper nightclothes, and he only had enough to wear for the journey to Denerim starting the following morning.

“Just after you and Morrigan left, coincidentally,” he said, shifting to stand up off the bed, sensing that the Warden was more upset than he had been expecting. “I heard what you two were speaking about.”

“You did, did you?” Mahariel asked as Zevran snaked his hands around Mahariel’s waist, settling over his belly button and pulling him flush up against Zevran’s chest. The Warden sighed at this contact, lifting one hand to cup his lover’s face. “I… I don’t really know why I’m upset, but…”

“Morrigan had apparently expected something from you based on assumption alone, and you were unable to provide, no? It was not your fault, but I understand why you may be feeling badly of yourself because of it. Besides, it seems that she may have found a… willing participant, anyhow? I did not listen to your conversation with Alistair.”

“He said he would do it,” Mahariel confirmed, turning around in Zevran’s embrace to face him. He rested his forehead on the other’s shoulder, sighing. “But I know he doesn’t really want to. He’s only doing it so neither of us has to die.”

“You would have done it if you could, yes? If it would have saved Alistair’s life, even if you did not want to?”

“Of course.”

“Then I see no problem.”

“I know there isn’t really a problem, but… I just… I just feel so strange. As if I let her down just by being… me.”

Zevran took Mahariel’s face in his hands and turned him to look at the Antivan in the eyes. “My love, there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with your body.”

Mahariel’s heart twisted at Zevran’s choice of an endearment; he had only admitted his love for the Warden shortly before they left for Redcliffe to face the darkspawn, after their encounter with Taliesen, but they had been sexually intimate for months, not long after Mahariel spared the assassin. “Of course you would say that.”

“Because it is true.”

With a sigh, Mahariel backed out of the hug and turned towards the mirror, looking at his figure up and down. Tight wraps bound his breasts down, making them no longer noticeable while wearing armor, but their presence, with no fabric to cover them, was irrevocable. He wore the undergarments of a man, but the bulge was not there, nothing to prove his manhood.

Zevran tugged on Mahariel’s wrist, tearing his gaze from the mirror and towards him, leading him to the bed. “My dear Warden, nobody other than yourself thinks any less of you because of these… trivialities.”

“Almost nobody knows, though, and if they did—”

“Of those who do know, Mahariel, I can guarantee you this: Alistair does not, I do not, and Morrigan— well, she thinks poorly of everyone except for you, and she will not start because you were born with the body of a woman. She is not ignorant.” Zevran sat on the soft sheets, pulling Mahariel down next to him; the Warden lay down, taking one of the pillows that Zevran had been using before and putting it under his head. Zevran coaxed him into lying on his back so that he could straddle the Warden’s waist; he kissed a line down his lover’s neck and chest, slowly removing his chest bindings as he did so. “I will reiterate this to you as many times as you need me to before you start to believe it.”

“Zev…”

“Hush,” the Antivan quieted him, placing one finger over Mahariel’s mouth. He removed the last of the wraps and placed them on the nightstand next to their bed. Knowing that this was one of the things Mahariel had found himself upset over, Zevran refrained from touching his breasts until he got explicit permission from his lover. “Your body is a temple, and I intend to worship tonight,” he whispered into Mahariel’s ear, causing a shiver to run down the other’s back.

The Warden’s hands found its way clumsily around Zevran’s neck, holding him as close as possible, warm skin pressed against Mahariel’s absolutely smoldering flesh. Zevran chuckled, kissing his lover. “Desperate, hm?”

“For you, always,” Mahariel murmured in reply.

Zevran trailed a hand trailing down to Mahariel’s smallclothes, taking in this sights. “May I take this off?” he asked, to which the Warden nodded, watching as Zevran made slow, deliberate motions in sliding the fabric down Mahariel’s legs, rubbing his thighs and calves along the way. “I will admit to you, my love, that when you invited me to your tent for the first time, I had been expecting something different when you first spread your legs for me; what instead was presented to me did not and still has not altered the way that I have thought about you in any way.”

“And how do you think about me?”

“Back then, as the… incredibly attractive man who preserved my life when he had no reason to. I thought that I had managed to seduce you with my undeniable attractiveness and charisma, and with that I could finish what I was sent to do and return to the Crows… but, as it turns out, I was the one who was seduced.”

Mahariel laughed. “You think I seduced you?”

“Well, maybe not intentionally, but yes, you did.”

The Warden smiled fondly at Zevran, fingers trailing the dark tattoos running down the side of his face, but his eyes were still lined with a tinge of worry. “Did you… ever think that you might someday fall in love with a man? When you were younger?”

“I thought that I would never fall in love, with a woman or a man. Such was the way in the Crows. But... since the moment we met I found myself not only admiring your body, but also your willingness to trust and your strength as a person, and your perseverance through circumstances in which many would have long before given up. I simply did not realize what I felt was love until…”

The Warden hushed him, knowing what Zevran was about to say. “And you certainly handled that realization well, didn’t you?”

Zevran burst into a short laugh. “I did, didn’t I?”

“When you so… aggressively denied my invitation to come to my tent out of the blue, what could I assume?” Mahariel joked, also chuckling. “It was rather unlike you, and I didn't know why. I just... liked to be in your presence. I liked having you sleep next to me; I felt safe that way.”

“I know. And I will forever apologize for the way I behaved that time and how I made you feel.”

The Warden smiled, and pulled Zevran in for another kiss. “Apology accepted.”

Zevran’s returned his smile; his hands began to wander from the other elf’s neck, down his chest, just barely brushing his nipples as he made his way down to his stomach. Mahariel breathed in slowly, exhaling shakily at the sensation of Zevran’s fingertips dancing along the most sensitive parts of his body. “Zev,” he breathed out. “Please. More. Rougher.”

The Antivan chuckled, but complied. His touch almost instantaneously went from soft to almost possessive, grabbing the Warden’s hips and pulling him down the bed so that he was closer to Zevran. “How far do you want to go tonight?” he asked, his voice barely audible, even when speaking right next to Mahariel’s ear.

“I want…” Mahariel gulped, his cheeks flaring up. Zevran always asked him how he wanted it, what he could do, what he couldn’t do— he always respected the Warden’s boundaries— but even after months of doing it, it was still a bit embarrassing spelling out exactly what he wanted the assassin to do to him, even though they were completely alone. “I want you inside of me.”

“Of course, my love. How could I ever deny you?” he said, smirking, as he lowered his head from Mahariel’s face, down to his breasts. He glanced up expectantly at the Warden, their gazes catching each other. “Can I touch your chest?”

“Touch me everywhere, Zev.”

Zevran’s smirk erupted into a full blown grin, and he enthusiastically took Mahariel’s right nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and doing all the right things to start making Mahariel moan from just the little contact. He accentuated what he was doing with his mouth by running his nails, which were of a decent length, down Mahariel’s sides where he was most sensitive and almost ticklish if he did it hard enough.

“Mm, Zev, you’re teasing me.”

“Not teasing, my love,” Zevran paused in his ministrations to speak, then moved towards the left breast, _teasing_ the nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Just preparing you.”

Mahariel let out a high whine and grabbed a fistful of Zevran’s long blonde hair, pulling him off of his chest and turning his face up to look at the Warden. His eyes were almost pitch black because of how blown his pupils were from arousal. “Trust me, I’m prepared,” he breathed out. “I’m so wet for you, Zev.”

Those words went straight to Zevran’s cock, causing it twitch against his stomach. He had already been pretty hard for quite awhile; he’d been lazily masturbating for a few minutes before the Warden came back to his room since he had planned to get off even if Mahariel had not wanted to have sex. “Well, I’m not going to make love to you yet, since we both know that you have to come at least three times before you’re anywhere near satisfied.”

Mahariel’s expression became a bit sheepish, his hand loosening in Zevran’s hair. “It’s a side effect of being a Grey Warden.”

“Oh, I know, and it’s not a bad thing, my dear. I find much pleasure in giving you yours.”

“Use—” Mahariel swallowed. “Can you use your fingers?”

Zevran’s response was nothing more than a smile, as he brought his hand down between his lover’s legs. He dragged his fingers up and down Mahariel’s glistening folds, already almost completely soaked through. His thumb put minute pressure against his clit, rubbing in tiny circles. Mahariel let out a long groan and laid his head back, his fingers tightening again in his lover’s hair.

Eventually, Zevran finally spread the lips of his cunt with two fingers and pressed another against his entrance. Mahariel shifted his hips to that they pressed more insistently against them, and Zevran was more than happy to oblige, penetrating him with one finger. He went slowly at first out of habit, but the Warden wasn’t having any of it. “More, Zev, please, I can handle it,” he moaned loudly, squirming in the sheets. “Please. Please.”

The Antivan snickered, using the hand that was not currently knuckle deep in Mahariel’s pussy to brush a bit of hair from his lover’s face. “You’re lucky there are no other elves to hear you in this estate, lest you want everyone to know how desperate you get from just one finger.”

“Zevran.”

He took the one finger out, earning a whine from Mahariel, but quickly replaced it with three. The Warden groaned at the intrusion, easily stretching to accommodate the size. “Move, please, fuck me with them! Zevran, please!”

Zevran began to thrust his hand in and out of Mahariel’s cunt, using his other hand to roughly rub at his clit. Once he picked up the pace, it was only a matter of minutes until Mahariel was reduced to a moaning mess on the bed, clenching around Zevran’s fingers as he continued to fuck him through his orgasm. He gripped the sheets tightly in his grip, only letting them go when the high had passed. It took several moments for him to regain control of his breathing. “Oh, for the love of....” Mahariel murmured, chest heaving. Zevran looked immensely pleased with himself and didn’t miss a beat in moving his face in front of Mahariel’s slick opening and running his tongue firmly up it and over his clit.

Mahariel let out a surprised gasp at the overstimulation, his back arching several inches off the bed. Zevran held him down by the hips, as he sucked persistently on the Warden’s clit, which was already sensitive and swollen from his first orgasm. The second was not nearly as intense in and of itself, but with all of the heat built up in Mahariel’s groin, he was forced to smother his face in a pillow to prevent anyone from hearing his brokens gasps and moans through the wall.

Even after it was over, Zevran continued to lick lavishly at the nub until Mahariel pinned his head between his thighs and begged him to stop. Zevran pouted almost like a puppy at being forced to relent. He captured the Warden’s mouth in a kiss, and Mahariel could taste himself on his lips; sure, it was not necessarily the best taste in the world, but the thought of it made a tingle run down his spine. “Zevran,” Mahariel muttered against his lover’s lips, eyes droopy with contentment. “What about you?”

“Do you still want me inside of you, love?” Zevran asked, sliding his cock through Mahariel’s folds; he didn’t expect him to say no after he was drunk off of two orgasms. Mahariel had always told him that penetration felt best after a couple anyway, loosening him up.

“Yes,” the Warden nodded, reaching down between them and slipping Zevran’s cock inside of his cunt. A moan caught in Zevran’s throat at having been so suddenly encompassed by Mahariel’s slick heat; he tugged on his balls to keep him from instantly coming inside of him.

“Fuck,” Zevran groaned, slowly bottoming out inside of his lover. “You feel so good. So good.” For the first time since they started, really, he fully took in the sight of Mahariel sprawled out beneath him; he looked expectantly up at Zevran, the skin on his face and neck red and blotchy from full-body blush. His eyes were dark with so much need; Zevran pulled out almost all the way, then thrust back in and watched Mahariel’s eyes and mouth widen from surprise and pleasure.

Zevran propped himself up with both hands next to Mahariel’s head, his face hovering mere inches above the Warden’s. “Zev,” Mahariel whispered; Zevran felt the heat of his breath against his lips. "Ah, more—!”

The Antivan hushed him with a deep kiss, his tongue slipping its way into Mahariel’s. They both moaned into the kiss, and Mahariel wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled their chests as close together as he could; the other went down to rub furiously at his clit, sensing both of their impending orgasms.

Zevran’s thrusts became deeper and more erratic once he began to feel Mahariel’s walls squeezing him as his orgasm crept up on him. Clear liquid squirted from his cunt, getting on the both of them and the sheets they lay on, and Mahariel nearly cried at the overstimulation, holding Zevran tightly as he came.

Zevran fell over the edge when he felt Mahariel ejaculating on his stomach; he gave two more erratic and hard thrusts before spilling his seed as deep inside Mahariel as possible. He swore underneath his breath in Antivan, and the Warden brushed blonde strands from his face as he came down from his orgasm. Zevran collapsed on his stomach next to Mahariel, on top the Warden’s arm.

“Graceful,” the Warden joked, pulling his arm out from underneath him.

“I am the epitome of charisma.”

Mahariel chuckled, hugging Zevran close to him and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you. For everything you said. This feeling has not gone away completely, but... I have less doubt.”

“Do not thank me, my love,” he said, wrapping one arm around Mahariel’s chest. “Just know it in your heart that what I said is true.”

The Warden looked wistfully at him, then sighed contentedly and leaned his head back. “Mmm,” he groaned after a few moments, his legs noticeably sticky from both of their juices. “We should bathe.”

“I think we should sleep. We have a long march in the morning, my dear Warden,” Zevran said, but still climbed over Mahariel and climbed off the bed, pulling his lover with him. “But we can take off this top sheet, at least.”

The one beneath it was still slightly dampened, but it was much better than the one they had made love on top of that had gotten completely soaked through. Once the bed was as comfortable as they could get it, Zevran blew out the candles on the bedside table, and the two of them clambered back into their bed in the dark. They left the top quilt bunched at the end of the bed; the heat made it too warm to use, but it didn’t stop Mahariel and Zevran from laying together in a loose embrace, their arms and legs tangled together as they both effortlessly fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> "i want you inside me" is a phrase i will use in every fic i write until the day i die and then some
> 
> comments and kudos are nice! i appreciate every single one of them


End file.
